


Decode

by Kibburs



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: -only slightly implied, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Gore, Cigarettes, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, No Beta, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Seizures, Spoilers, Trauma, i just want my boys to be happy, possibly jam in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibburs/pseuds/Kibburs
Summary: A young man goes to work as usual. He’s working hard to support the people that took him in a couple years ago. He’s a gas station attendant. It doesn’t make much, but he’d do anything for the people he calls family now. He clocks in and relieves his co-worker from the register so he can take her place for the night shift. Why a small town like this needs a 24 hour gas station, he’ll never know. Looks like another night of sitting behind the counter watching people pump their gas and leave just as quietly as they came. He wonders if he’ll see that one guy the other night shift employees have been talking about. He’s apparently pretty skittish. Never buys gas, just cheap gas station food.
Kudos: 18





	1. It's a Good Parking Spot

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys I know I've been dead on this account for a while, but I just re-watched Marble Hornets for the 11th year anniversary. Every time I watch it the end leaves me with so many questions, like what happened to Tim and what he might do after leaving Jessica. So after a couple of more marathons and idea dumping I came up with the idea for this fic. It might be slightly self-indulgent, but I just wanted to type this out and see what you guys think.
> 
> Also I'm not sure if I'll add in Jam stuff later on, but lemme know if that's something you'd like to see.

A grizzly looking man sloppily shuffles some bills then holds out a meager wad to the other standing in front of him. He can already tell by the way the money was folded up in the man’s grasp that it was way less than he had earned for the day. Accepting the money, he counted the bills only to confirm his suspicion. 

“38 bucks? Come on Kent, you know I worked more hours than that.” His words were resigned. 

“I already told you to go home around 3. We made piss poor sales today; this is all I can give yah.” There was no sympathy in the gruff man's voice. He just stared down the shorter man, daring him to rebuttal.”

“Right… sorry. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turned away to start his long walk home. 

“See yah tomorrow, Tim. Try not to be late again.” He chuckled before turning away.

Tim looked at the cash before pocketing it. He knew they made way more in sales than what Kent was leading on, but there’s no way he’d challenge his bosses authority. His job was already hanging by a thread. It’s already hard enough to find any sort of job when you have practically no paper trail or references. All he could land was a job at this crappy fireworks tent set up just on the outskirts of town. He looked back at the tent once more before setting his sights to the dusty country road ahead. 

He knew once the holiday season was over he’d be back on the road again, he just had hoped it’d be with more in his wallet. Maybe then he’d be able to buy some real food. That gas station food wasn’t doing any good for him. At least it’s cheap. Thinking of food reminded him that it’d be time to go get his groceries soon. He should probably bring the gas can with him this time. July 4th was coming in a couple days and after the 5th he knew Kent would let him go. He wanted to be right on the road again after that. He may have hung around here too long as it is; his cough is creeping up again. It could be from his cigarettes he still begrudgingly buys. It doesn’t matter. It was going to find him no matter what if he kept waiting around. 

An hour later he makes it to his car. Parked just at the end of a road of a cul de sac. The construction signs have been up forever, but he hasn’t seen any traces of development since he started parking there. Maybe it was some abandoned project or whatever, Tim didn’t dwell on it. No one bothered him there, so he didn’t mind. He unlocked the driver side door and reached over to open his glove box. There was a bottle of water and a bag filled with wrappers. He grabbed the bag and searched for any remaining food left. Just half a bag of jerky and a few stray nuts. He sat down and ate his meal for the day; finding it morbidly funny that week old jerky can taste amazing if you’ve had nothing to eat all day. 

Once he was finished and had time to rest his feet. He got out of the car and headed to the trunk. Popping open the trunk revealed a duffel bag full of clothes and miscellaneous items, a sleeping bag, and a gas can. Tim tried hard to ignore the camera sitting in its bag tucked away into the corner of the trunk, he really tried. He hasn’t touched it since the last entry was uploaded to the account. That was a little over two years ago, it dawned on him. Two years and he’s done nothing. Nothing, but run. 

He grabs the gas can, determined not to slip into dark thoughts. He doesn’t want to think about what would come from it. He certainly wouldn’t want to slip back into that other person either. Without his medication he’s been doing surprisingly well. Only a couple of instances of memory loss and waking up in strange places. Even still it takes all his strength not to dwell on such somber thoughts. Everyday’s a battle and he feels like he’s been winning, but lately it’s been getting harder. Some days he just wants to give in and let that thing take him, or take himself out before it gets the chance; But he promised himself he’d try. He promised him he’d try. He closes his trunk and makes his way down to the gas station. 

Luckily it’s not that far, the aching in his feet reminds him. However he doesn’t mind the trip. It’s one of the few things he can look forward to; even if the employees there look at him like some rabid dog broke into the building and is grabbing snacks like it hasn’t eaten in days. They at least treat him like a human. Sometimes he can even hear them sharing some town gossip when he’s not looking. It’s nice. It kinda makes him feel normal again, and forget about how he’s buying enough junk food to last a week. He can see the way too bright signs in the distance now. No ones there getting gas or otherwise. Makes him think about the necessity of a brand name gas station in a small town like this. He brushes it off as he crosses the beams of light shining down from the canopy. 

Walking into the gas station convenience store is like a breath of fresh air. Ironic considering all the air pumping through the building has been heavily filtered and reeks of sticky aisle floors. Regardless Tim is just happy to get out of the suffocating humidity. Kind of reminds him of Alabama. He’s not too far from there. Just a couple hours away. He grunts at that thought. No matter how far he got from that god awful state, he keeps finding reasons to come back. It makes him quicken his pace. That is until he’s stopped by a familiar voice. 

“Heya, Nice to see you again!” The voice belonged to a plucky looking girl behind the counter. Tim sees her the most out of all the other employees. Her name tag said “LISA” with some bright stickers beside the bold letters. She looks like any country girl would out here. Hair tied in braids for convenience and style; skin tanned by days under the relentless southern heat and kissed with a few patches of freckles. She was probably a pretty hard worker. It’d make sense for how often he sees her working. Part of his heart goes out to her in hopes that she’s not pushing herself too hard. 

He gives her a silent nod and smile, attempting to make himself look more casual than what he probably looked like. Then he headed to the snacks and preserves. He takes his time as usual, because the last thing he’d want is to draw more attention to himself and potentially get kicked out. He’s about halfway down the aisle when he hears the sound of the back door opening. 

“How you doin, Kiddo?” It’s the manager, He guesses. She always comes out to check on the employees from time to time. She’s stern, but quite a nice older lady. Tim envies having such a boss. 

“M’fine, just been a couple of customers tonight so it hasn’t been too busy.” 

“Hmm that’s a shame, but I got some good news for yah at least. New guy’s coming in tonight. He’s been doing fine during the day shifts n’said he thinks he can start handling night shifts.” Tim hears a relieved sigh come from Lisa. 

“Thanks, Margie I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me, thank John. He’s really steppin up to the plate, taking that shift alone. He should be here at nine tonight to relieve you; but you be safe getting home tonight.” 

They’re conversation turns into idle chit chat about some lost sick dog people have been seeing around the town. Apparently some teens believe it’s a ghost or something. Tim couldn’t care less. He’s not a big fan of urban legends, unsurprisingly. It’s a shame he won’t get to meet the new guy though. This will be his last trip to the gas station. Makes him sad thinking about how he’s gonna have to give all this up for the open road again. Not that there was much here to leave behind anyway. Just a good parking spot and a couple of people he’s been eavesdropping on in place of friends. 

He gathers up his food and walks up to the counter. Effectively ending their conversation and the light hearted mood that surrounded it. Margie eyed him up as she always tended to do when she thought he didn’t notice. Lisa, as her usual nice self, just greeted him warmly again. 

“Is this all tonight?” She gestures to the mini mountain of snacks on the counter. 

“And uh, three and a half gallons of regular please.” He held up his gas can.

“Oh alright, that brings your total to 52.50$ and you’ll be on number three. Now don’t tell me you plan on leaving us so soon?” She teases.

“Actually yeah, I gotta head out after the 4th.” He takes the money he just earned and a little bit of his savings then hands it to her. His eyes didn’t meet hers. He didn’t want to see if she was saddened or relieved, by the news of him leaving. 

“Oh… Well I’m sorry to hear that.” Her tone lacks emotion other than her fake customer service happiness. Maybe he’s kidding himself, but he could’ve sworn he heard a bit of sadness mixed in there as well. 

“Thanks.” He grabs the plastic bag and walks out the heavy doors back out to the harsh heat of the summer night. 

He walks up to pump number three and begins filling the can. He spaces out for a bit until he sees a beat up sedan pull into the parking lot next to the building. If he had to guess it’s probably that new guy. Tim side eyes the car with mild curiosity. The door takes a minute to swing open and even longer for the man to get out of it. Tim’s eyes flicker back to the can as it finishes. He screws the cap on and looks over once more. 

It’s hard to see as the parking lot is not illuminated, but in his peripheral he sees the man slowly step out of the car. He’s slim, too slim. His hair is messy and it’s being kept under a green baseball cap. His walk is stilted by a cane as he approaches the door. Tim’s blood runs cold for a moment as all the weight in his body drops ten feet. He shakes his head for a moment as he realizes his bag has slipped from his hand scattering bags and boxes everywhere. He scrambles to pick them up, but by the time he’s done the man has already gone inside.

Tim stares blankly at the door for a few seconds then turns away. “If only...” He reluctantly thinks. But Tim knows how his mind likes to dangle carrots in front of him just out of reach. Seeing that damn camera again probably caused another hallucination. He really has to get rid of it, it’s not like he’s gonna use it again. He walks faster and feels around his back pocket for that familiar box. Taking it out, he can feel how hollow it is, but a single raddle informs him that it’s not entirely empty. He flips open the box and takes the last cigarette out then internally swears for not buying more while he was there.


	2. Jog Your Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. My motivation to write comes and goes, but I've been trying to stick to putting an hour into writing this every night. Lemme know what you think.

An alarm clock blares loudly as hard green analog numbers flash. There’s a rustle and a hand lazily approaches it from the darkness, ending the beeping. A few seconds later of tired pained groans, a light switch is flicked on that illuminates the room dully. It's not much to look at; there are no posters, shelves or accessories to help decorate the room. Just a bed with a lovingly made quilt on top of it, and a not too modern computer setup. 

The lonely room’s occupant went to the closet and grabbed an outfit for the day. A grey shirt and some blue jeans. He had to sit down while dressing himself. He didn’t want to strain himself too much before the day had even begun. Well, in actuality, it was 11am and the day had technically already started, he thought to himself. He just wanted to let himself take it easy today since he had the night shift tonight. Getting up off the bed he carefully made his way to the door, grabbing his cane on the way out. As much as he hated it, it was necessary for him to get around. 

He walked out into a hallway littered with photos and memories, a few with him were starting to pop up onto the walls as well. It left him feeling a whole range of conflicting emotions before settling on happy. Passing through to the living room, he was met with the sound of frying and the smell of deliciously bad-for-you breakfast food. He followed it to the kitchen.

“Oh, good morning sleeping beauty! Didn’t think we’d see you before noon.” An older man chuckled while flipping a pancake. He heard a displeased groan just next to him that belonged to an older woman. 

“Everett! You and I both know how hard our Johnnyboy works.” She teased right back at the older man. “You lay off him and let him have all the rest he needs.” 

“Geez, Winnie I’m just jokin’ around, he knows that.” Everett set a plate on the table just before him. “How many do you want, John?” 

“Just one, thank you.” He spoke up hoarsely, his voice taking its time to warm up.

“Three it is then!” Everett turned around giving him a grin before returning to the stove 

“Heheh, really one’s fine. I'm not that hungry.” He tried to protest before Winnie shushed him.

“Oh, hun please take more than one! We already had some and there’s more than enough to go around. You’re not eatin’ us out of house and home or anything like that.” Everett brought 3 pancakes over in a pan and plopped them down onto his plate. “Plus we gotta get your weight back up. Remember what the good doctor said.” She spoke in a light playful manner to cover up the concern laced in her voice. 

“Thanks, yeah I remember.” He gave a shy smile before drizzling some syrup on his breakfast. The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of birds chirping, sips of coffee, and the occasional chuckle from Everett as he read his paper. Truly a peaceful morning. 

“So what’s the plan for today, anything big on the agenda?” Winnie spoke up from her coffee catching John after a particularly big bite. He took a few seconds to chew before replying with a hand covering his mouth. 

“Not much. I got the night shift tonight, but other than that I got nothing planned. I was thinking about taking my walk down by the post office. I can take the mail with me when I go.” 

“Are you sure, hun? That’s quite a bit aways.” Winnie gave him a stern yet sympathetic look. 

“Yeah I’m up for it, I feel like I’m getting a little bit farther everyday. It’s really no trouble, honestly.” He practically begged while seeing the older woman's protective instincts kick in.

“Well… you certainly seem up to it, but the moment you start feeling tired-” She was cut off by Everett’s chiding.

“He’s not a boy, he can take care of himself, hun.” He said without looking up from his paper. Oblivious to the daggers she was staring back at him. 

She exchanged glances quickly between the two before sighing. “Just be careful.” John lit up at her permission. He never technically needed it, being that he’s in his 20s. It would always put her at ease if he did though; so he always asked for permission. So very much like a son would. It made sense, because in so many ways she was like a mother to him, yet they had only known each other for such a short time. Maybe thinking of her as a mom was too much, he thought solemnly 

He got up from the table and reached over to give her a, somewhat awkward, lopsided hug. She returned it nevertheless and he took his dishes to the sink before grabbing the mail and heading to the door, his cane assisting him along the way. He gave them both one more genuine smile before heading out; the creaky screen door smacking the threshold behind him. 

Outside he took a deep breath and smelled the sun baked earth surrounding the small house. It would almost be entirely secluded had it not been for the narrow path leading up to the front yard that split the thick brush around the property. John found it absolutely captivating here, even though he does admit having to walk/drive about an hour to get to anywhere fun kinda sucked. Everything back in this part of town was either farmland, or patchy unkempt forests. He started down the narrow path, the tall grass tickled his arms as he walked. 

His walks were always meant to be purely for his strength, but lately they’ve taken on a more of a therapeutic approach. As walking through the dust bowl-esque town seemed to bring up memories that he doesn’t remember having. Memories of a life he surely lived before this town. Before Ev and Winnie found him. They’re fuzzy, but if he focuses hard enough he thinks he can even make out faces. Not that he recognizes them anyways. He pretty much had to re-contextualize himself from the bottom up when he woke up from that coma. 

John stumbles his way out of the narrow path and into a clearing next to the paved road. There’s a horrendously teal sedan that sits on the side. The family car, or rather Winnie’s old car that he’s allowed to use. Everett never cared for driving that much and Winnie’s eyesight’s starting to go, So he’s pretty much the only one using it at the moment. However instead of getting in and simply driving down to the post office, John turns to start walking down the bikers lane. The lane itself is almost non-existent being covered in debris from the forest just to the side of the road, but he thinks he’ll manage if he chooses his footing carefully. 

Though he’s about a couple minutes into his walk and he’s already starting to huff from the exertion it’s taking to just walk down the bumpy road. He's determined to not let himself get tired this time. He doesn’t like to think too much about his current physical condition, but when it affects his mobility he can’t help but be constantly reminded of it. His muscles are still pretty atrophied, but he remembers when this was much harder. When he had to have the older couple come and hold him up, as if he was a child. Honestly the doctor still believes that he needs they’re guidance, but John couldn’t do that to them. They practically needed their own assistance. Plus he’s been doing fine, no falls, he doesn’t need them to come pick him up anymore if he gets too tired to walk. No reason for him to be a burden on them anymore than he already is now. 

They’ve done so much for him already. He doesn’t think he could bare putting any more strain on them. They never told him about the night they found him, but his scars told him it wasn’t a pretty site. A bullet wound to the torso and numerous lacerations all over his body. He can’t imagine the shock they felt as they witnessed, what probably looked to be, a dead man. Even more astonishing, rather than call the police they scooped him up and drove him down to the hospital. The doctor told him it was a miracle he even survived. Had it not been for the two biggest hearts this town had, he would have died. They even took on all his medical expenses, when the police couldn’t turn up any history on him. 

So here he was now, trying his hardest to get better. Trying to get better, and earn back the amount he owes them. Everett had to come back out of retirement just to help afford all the procedures it took to keep him alive. Winnie had started to work overtime making quilts and selling them at the local market. He put so much on them and they never asked for anything in return. Hell they even treated him like family. It only breaks his heart even more knowing that he’ll have to leave them one day. Though by the looks of how he ended up in their arms in the first place, he’d guess that the life he had before wasn’t all that worth going back to in the first place. 

The post office is on the horizon now. It’s not that far from the house, but he’s sweating buckets. He walks up to the building and pulls open the door. Inside he quickly locates a bench and sits down. He breathes hard for a few minutes while some of the postal workers look on in concern. None come over to help or ask what’s wrong. They all pretty much know him enough now to know that this is basically routine for him. That still won’t stop they’re stares. With all the rumors that spread about him, about a mysterious man with no name or past, he’s become somewhat of a local legend. So he imagines the stares are half out of concern. The other half are probably trying to somehow see through him and find out if he really is a FBI agent or gang member, like some rumors suggest. 

When he’s had enough time to recover, he gets up and walks up to the slot on the wall labeled, “Outgoing.” Then he promptly shoves the mail in and walks out of the building. He’s learned from many outings that it’s better to not chit chat, as it usually brings up more questions than he has answers for. However despite the ongoing rumor mill surrounding his origins, he’s surprised that no one’s tried to publish any tabloids on him, or confront him in any way. It’s not everyday that person just shows up in your small town beaten and bloody with no idea who they are. He guesses that he’s just lucky that no one has blown up his whereabouts asking if anyone knows him. He’s oddly adverse to having that knowledge out there. He doesn’t linger on it as his head is already starting to feel pretty achy. 

Life’s been far from perfect, but considering all the signs of what has happened to him in the past, he’s just thankful he’s here. Still alive, but with more questions than any one man could possibly answer. Like what kind of life had he led to get him to this point. He probably wasn’t involved with drugs. The doctors found no trace of it in his system. His build would suggest he’s not much of a fighter. Who knows what could have possibly landed him in this situation. He tries hard to think of the things he can remember before getting hurt, but like always they’re just fuzzy flashes. He sees roads, forests, broken down buildings, and a very faint interpretation of a man with dark hair. He can’t tell if it’s fuzziness, or maybe there’s what looks to be a cloud of something around him most of the time. John grimaces as his head really begins to pound.

He’s walking out of the post office when he hears it.There’s ringing in his ears. It starts off low and starts to work it’s way up. He tenses and starts to quicken his pace back to the house. He doesn’t want to be stuck out on the road if this evolves into what he thinks it’s going to be. The doctor said it’s all psychosomatic, it can’t hurt him. That still doesn’t stop him from questioning why these episodes always give him coughing fits; a side effect that’s very real and does hurt him. He’s about halfway back now and speeding through that wooded part of the roads again. Then he sees it. 

That man. No, that thing. He’s been seeing it since he woke up from his coma. He grows cold under it’s sightless stare and before he knows it he's on the ground. He’s coughing, hard. Lungs seizing for relief from whatever is aggravating them. It’s like reality has tuned itself and now only consists of him, it, and the sound of his hacking. Time passes unperceivable to him or seemingly anyone that might be around him. Then just as the sky seems to turn pitch black, he wakes up. 

It’s with a start no doubt, but he’s not as badly shaken as he was when this first happened. It takes a minute to ground himself before he notices Winnie standing over him checking his body for wounds. She looks concerned, but with something on her face that reads as familiarity. She’s done this before. 

“It happened again.” He states almost as a question.

“I’m afraid so.” She finishes her search and then settles her kind gaze to his. 

“Just another hallucination, it’s fine” He tries to shrug it off as he sits up on the old leather couch he hadn’t realized he’d been laying ‘til now. There’s a bit of silence as she rises to reach for a glass of water to hand him. 

“I know that, dear. But this is the third time this week.” There’s only concern to her voice as she speaks. “I think that we should set you up with another appointment.” 

“No.” He rises quickly from the couch, startling her somewhat. “Please no, I’m fine.” He says a bit more slowly and calmer this time. “I just need to keep doing my mental exercises like the doctor recommended then they’ll start going away.” His face stands neutral, but his eyes are pleading. Winnie sighs and turns her head away in defeat. She was never good with begging.

“Okay, okay. I’m trusting that you keep to those exercises alright. John, please don’t make me regret this promise, y’hear.” 

“I promise.” He gives her another awkward hug just before spotting the dark window behind her. “It’s night already?” He breaks from the hug and hurries over to his room.

“Whoa slow down, hun. Are you actually feeling up to going to work today. I mean I was just about to call them for you.” He emerged from the hallway, this time with a sloppily put-on gas station uniform shirt. 

“I gotta, they don’t have anyone else tonight.” He scrambled around her in search of something. 

“I have em’ right here” She held up a set of keys, but snatched them away when he tried to reach for them. “But I expect some extra mental exercises out of you tonight.” She smirked and let him grab the keys. “And stop your rushin’ about, it’s only 8:30. You’ll get there in time.” She can see the tension leave his body somewhat as she says this.

“Thank you.” He smiles before walking over to the door. She watches him struggle to even do this, but there’s nothing that she could tell him to change his mind. He’s always too hard on himself she thought. It worried her to think that one day she may find him in even worse condition than when he first showed up at their door.


	3. All it Takes is One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry for being so inconsistent with these, I just can't push myself to write a ton on a regular basis. However I'm making some art to go along with the story too, so that'll kinda help give me so more motivation to write.

The Summer time heat and car interiors never really mixed quite well. Tim became acutely aware of that as he woke up drenched in the back seat. Had the seats been made of leather he’s pretty sure he would have been permanently fused to the material. He struggled to sit up in the cramped makeshift bed; really it was just his bag that he propped up under his head for a pillow. Then he peered out the window. The sun was already high in the sky torturing him with yet another god-awful bright day. He should probably get moving he thought. Maybe he wouldn’t be too late if he hurried today. At least it’s the last day he’d ever have to put up with his boss’ crap. After today’s shift he’d be free. 

Climbing out of the car, he pulled his bag out with him and went to open the trunk. As it opened, sunlight poured in making anything in there that was mildly shiny gleam like a maglite back into his eyes. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the only thing that had a pretty reflective surface were the zippers and carabiners on the camera bag. Tim let the sun blind him some more as he just stared at the bag. That damn bag.

He started grabbing everything inside the trunk and yanked it out, carelessly tossing it all on the hot cement. When he got to the camera, he went to reach for it cautiously, like he felt he didn’t have permission to touch it. He picked it up and hooked the long strap over his shoulder, trying his hardest not to think about the weight of it. Then he lifted the floor of the trunk to reveal the rusty spare tire well. This car hasn’t had a spare for years he’d reckon to guess, but in this case that space was just what he needed. Just as gingerly as he picked it up, he set the bag down into the well and let the floor drop back over it. 

After putting back all of the trunk’s contents, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. He tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat before slamming the trunk closed. With that done it was time to head out. He could’ve had breakfast, he had time. It’s not gonna really matter if he’s late anyways, but as the thought crossed his mind he was already walking away. He rationalized it as having more food for when he left, and not as running away from an object that literally had no power to hurt him yet still terrified him to no end. At least when shit hit the fan after they shot Marble Hornets, and Brain disappeared, he didn’t leave little souvenirs that reminded him how much of a terrible person he was; he thought solemnly.

Jay just seemed to keep popping up everywhere around him. Kinda true to how he is, or rather how he was back when they were first getting to know each other. He’s never honestly known such a nosy person in his life. It still surprises himself to think that he agreed to help even after having his personal information broadcasted all over the internet. He wondered if anyone is still paying attention to twitter page and channel anymore. Just hoping one day that Tim would come back with an update. Probably not. More than likely, everyone dismissed it as some elaborate art project or student film. Not that it matters, he doesn’t have a phone and the laptop is dead. He could try and find some restaurant or cafe and plug it in, but why even bother. What’s he gonna say. “Everyone’s still dead, I’m homeless, and it’s still out there.”

He let himself stew in his self loathing until he got to the fireworks tent. Sighing as he walked towards it. It’s just one more day, he lamented. He entered the tent and looked around to see it near empty as usual. Of course barely anyone’s buying fireworks all the way out here. The majority of folks in town are older people and teens who just want the illegal stuff; not the safe ground fountains that they sell. His eyes land on Kent who’s helping the only two other people in the tent. An old lady and presumably her husband. They’re making idle chit chat. Tim rolls his eyes at the show Kent’s putting on for them. His customer service voice in full swing with a big dumb grin on his face. He walks up to them when Kent finally sees him. 

“Oh there yah, are! Didn’t know if you’d be joining us today!” He chuckles to himself “You know how this younger generation is, can't’ get enough sleep.” He tells the older couple who laugh with him. Tim laughs a little under his breath just to save face. 

“Now that Tim’s here I’m gonna leave you folks with him. He knows the inventory inside and out. He can answer any question you have.” He gives an uncomfortably firm pat on Tim’s shoulder as he strides over to the nearest seat in the tent. 

“Did you need help finding a certain firework today.” He says in a much more laid back retail voice than his boss. 

“Oh yes, we need help finding the right kind of fireworks for our son.” The woman pipes up in the thickest southern accent he’s heard in a long time. 

“Great, how old is he? We have plenty of kid friendly fireworks.” 

“Heheh thank you, but he’s about 23. We’re more so looking for… well you see he’s not big fan of loud noises or a lot of flashing.” She looked a little uncomfortable admitting that, before her face straightened out again. 

“No problem, we got tons of pretty tame stuff too.” He reassured her. He doesn’t pry her any further either. He knows better than to try and tiptoe his way through what’s probably a pretty sore subject for her. He led her over to the section just adjacent to the kid’s fireworks, but tried not to bring attention to it. They made small talk about the town and weather, rarely ever bringing up the couple’s son. Ultimately they left with very little. Just a couple of sparklers, smoke bombs, and a few ground bloom flowers. His heart kinda went out to the guy in question. The 4th of July used to be pretty fun for him; even as an adult. Maybe not for all the reasons the holiday presents, but it felt good getting to light some stuff on fire and watch it explode into something really nice. 

Kent comes up to him as the couple is leaving. He’d completely ditched the peppy attitude he had before, now showing off his neutral expression of displeasure. However, Tim was surprised to find that it wasn’t pointed at him, but rather the couple. 

“Those two are some odd folks. If yah stick around this town after this gig just be leary of those two. They’re sweet, don't get me wrong, but they’re a little loose in the head.”

“Hmm, them? How do you figure?” He was genuinely curious, Kent didn’t often bad mouth the customer.

“Geez erm, well they've lived here since I was a boy. Always nice and sweet to everyone else in town, but they’ve really just lost the plot over the last few years. They live a lil’ bit further in town in what used to be a pretty humble, but well kept house. Lot’s a farm land, quite a lil’ slice of heaven if you asked anyone from around here. Nowadays weeds and grass have overtaken the place. They’d tell you that Everett just got too old to do the landscaping anymore, but really I don’t think they were ever quite right again after they’re son died.” He didn’t look at Tim just out the ten door as if anticipating they’re return. 

“W-wait. They told me that they have a son.” Tim looked shocked, thinking about them talking about they’re deceased child as if he were still here today sent some chill down his spine. “That’s some pretty deep denial.” Kent looked back at him puzzled for a second, before looking even more thoroughly peeved by those people’s apparent existence. 

“Nah, nothin’ like that. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t heard. Though I guess it’s old news by now. They took in this real shifty lookin’ feller after he was found with beaten to within an inch of his life. Guess they’ve start thinkin’ of him as part of the family now.” He shook his head slightly. 

“Oh…” It was all he could manage to say. 

“Yeah, rumor has it that he just ‘showed up’ on they’re front porch lookin’ like some butcher’s bloody accident. Then next thing you know, Winnie’s zippin’ down through town towards the hospital. It’s about 30 minutes away though. Don’t know how that boy ever survived. That’s some dumb luck if I’ve ever heard it.” Kent was still grumbling about them as if they weren’t heroes to this one guy. It made his skin prickle with agitation, but he breathed through it. 

“But he’s alive, that’s a good thing right?” He went to rearrange displays to avoid looking at the irritating man. 

“Well if you feel that way, sure. I say that it’d been better to have left well enough alone. They had no idea where he came from. He had no ID or record they could dig up at the police station. Who’s to say he wasn’t involved in some crime ring. Sellin’ drugs and whatnot. I’m sure whoever left him in such a sorry state, had a pretty good reason too. If yah ask me, I would’ve just called the police the moment I found him on my property.” 

“Pretty harsh, dontcha think? I mean regardless of where he came from, he should get a second chance.” He wasn’t really sure why he was so hung up on defending this stranger, but pretty much anything his boss said was irritating enough to start a fight. At least this small debate they’re having is acting like an outlet for that rage. 

“I’m just saying.” He brushed it off, like what he said was no big deal. Thankfully before he could rebuttal his manager piped up again. “Look it’s a small community, you wouldn’t understand being someone who’s just passin by. Probably never stayed in one place too long I’d bet, but in a community as close knit as ours we have to watch out for each other. All it takes one person, then before you know it the whole town’s infected.” 

Tim froze. He saw flashes of his friends before his eyes. Happy, carefree, acting like any broke college students would. Until he ripped that away from them. All it takes is one person. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a point.” Said almost to himself rather than his boss. Satisfied with seemingly winning the argument, Kent took his seat and left Tim to do the brunt of the work. 

The day continued as assumed, boring with very few customers. Tim was let go early on the occasion that it was a ‘holiday’. His boss knew damn well that he was just going to take off, the minute he got off. No, no time to celebrate. He’s gotta pick up his life again and move it somewhere where he’s not gonna be a burden to anyone. Only to do it again, and again. He walked back to his car, albeit a little slower than normal. 

“Ughh…. What am I doing.” He sighed, talking to no one in particular. That one comment really had him thinking, but then again when was he not. Thinking about where to run next. Thinking about what where he’s gonna sleep without the cops getting called on him. Thinking about what his friends would have done if they had found him like this. He doesn’t want to think about them right now, but it's only bringing up more memories that make his chest ache. 

“They’d still be here if it wasn’t for you.” he can feel something inside his head agree, but another part half-heartedly disagrees. The part of him that still has Jay in his head nagging him to keep going on. The second friend he ever made, and all because he weaseled his way into his life. Just like Brian had, he chuckled darkly. Being so shy and anxious after coming out of the hospital, it really took a lot for him to trust anyone. Then they’re was Brian, always there, always friendly and blissfully unaware of his fidgeting. When he lost contact with Brian after shooting Alex’s movie, he closed back up again tighter than before. Until Jay showed up again and stubbornly stuck around until Tim had to work with him. 

He still feels horrible that he never really got to enjoy that friendship before they- His thoughts cut off as he reaches to his back pocket for his go-to coping mechanism only to find the pocket empty. “Fuck.” He swore under his breath suddenly remembering that he made a mental note to go back to the gas station. He changed footing and crossed the road making a detour. 

The night creeps up around him as he gets there. He can hear people setting off fireworks in the distance. Every now and then he can hear the occasional boom of a much more fun and illegal one. When he makes it to the entrance he notices with mild interest that the little beat up sedan is back. He shakes it off knowing that he’s not gonna have time to linger around and eavesdrop again. He’ll be in and out. He opens the door to that same refreshing air conditioning. It’s almost enough to make him forget that he’s in a hurry. Regardless he makes a B-line for the cigarettes behind the counter. The cashier’s there, hunched behind the counter fiddling with something facing away from the other side. 

“Erm excuse me?” He stutters a bit at the other man, trying to forget they’re last encounter. 

“Oh!” Frantically he turns around, or as best as he can as he grips the edge of the counter for support. “Sorry bout that, what di- Sir? Sir are you okay?” 

Tim's eyes are blown wide as his pulse increases at an alarming rate. This had to be the same hallucination as before he rationizes, but this is way too real to be anything else. He starts breathing heavily and it slowly shifts into panting, not that he’s aware of it. The world around him has melted away and he’s trying to look anywhere other than ahead, because when he does he sees the spitting image of his dead friend standing right before him. 

“Are you okay? Sir, can you hear me? Do I need to call a 911?!” The cashier looks confused and anxious as he picks up the store phone next to him, but before he can dial the number, Tim backs up violently and trips on his own feet sending him falling to the floor. He can see the cashier scramble to get out of the register booth and hobble over to him. He doesn’t make it to him as he’s already on his feet and running out the door by the time the cashier even makes it out the booth. The last thing he sees is the look plastered on the face of his should-be-dead friend. It’s full of surprise and fear, but just beyond it he swears he can see something dawning on realization.


End file.
